


Budapest

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: The crew have some time to kill in Budapest, why not go sightseeing?
Relationships: Carolyn Knapp-Shappey & Douglas Richardson & Martin Crieff & Arthur Shappey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Budapest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Petra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/gifts).



“Houston, we may have a problem,” Douglas Richardson said as he looked across the River Danube.

Martin Crieff looked up from the map he had been following and replied, “Douglas, you are once again demonstrating your lack of faith in my navigation. I was leading you to a bridge, and as you can see before you, this is a bridge.”

“Captain, you are quite correct. This is indeed a bridge which crosses the river, and there is no reason why we should not walk over it. However, if you were to look across the bridge to the other side, you would see that Buda Castle is not directly in front of us but somewhat to the left and, yes, in front of a different bridge.”

“Ah, you may have a point. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because you didn’t want me to demonstrate my lack of faith in your navigation?”

“Oh, but Cap, now we’re here,” Arthur Shappey ignored the audible sigh from the other two and continued, “we’re close to the island you said we might visit. So, why don’t we go there instead?”

“Because, Arthur, it is raining, and we had agreed to visit somewhere indoors,” Douglas said.

“He may have a point, though,” Martin replied. “By the time we reach the castle, we’ll be just as wet as if we’d visited the island.”

“Very well, but I’m in charge of the map reading.”

Even Douglas had to admit the musical fountain on Margrit Island was worth seeing. He agreed with Martin that while they were there they might as well visit the ruins of the Franciscan church. The ruins weren’t very big, and Douglas walked round one way while Martin went the other. They met at the far side.

“Where’s Arthur?” Martin asked.

“I thought he was with you,” Douglas answered.

“Ah. Which one of us is going to tell Carolyn we’ve lost her beloved son?”

“I’m not sure that’s quite the wording Carolyn would use to describe him, but whatever she does call him will be rather more polite than what she’s going to call us. Try phoning him. He won’t know where he is, but at least we can tell him to stay there until we find him.”

Martin took out his phone and tried. “It’s going straight to answerphone. He must have it switched off. I’d better leave a message for him.”

“No, don’t do that. I’ve just remembered, he’d run out of battery this morning and left his phone with Carolyn to recharge. If you leave a message, she’ll listen to it.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“We’ll have to start looking for him.”

Having consulted the map, they began with the mini-zoo, but there was no sign of Arthur, and Douglas moaned that they’d had to buy tickets to look round it. After that they continued along the main path across the island, pausing whenever they saw an attraction which they felt might possibly have interested Arthur. 

They were both feeling very wet and thoroughly fed up when Douglas’ phone rang. He looked at the caller display and said, “It’s Carolyn.”

“Answer it, then,” Martin replied. “No good ever came from ignoring her.”

Douglas didn’t have the chance to say anything because as soon as he pressed the button, Carolyn began, “When are you two soggy specimens proposing returning? Arthur’s been here for ages. He said he didn’t want to get any wetter, so he caught the bus back. I suggest the pair of you follow his example.” With that, she rang off.

Martin had heard everything Carolyn had said. He pointed to the road and said, “There’s a bus coming. The bus stop’s just down there.”

They started to run, but by the time they reached the road, the bus had departed. Sighing deeply, they stood at the bus stop and waited for the next bus to arrive.

“And to think,” Douglas said, “I could be sitting in a café somewhere drinking coffee and eating chocolate cake. Instead of which, I am waiting for a bus, with water dripping down my neck, and feeling rather like one of the ruins we’ve seen on this island.”


End file.
